Don't Give Up
by HuntressOfDawn
Summary: Harry didn't know what his uncle was planning until it was too late. Hurt/Comfort/Whump
1. Chapter 1

**HARRY DIDN'T KNOW WHAT WAS HIS UNCLE WAS PLANNING UNTIL IT WAS TOO LATE.**

**HURT/COMFORT/WHUMP**

**WARNING: INCLUDES MILD ABUSE AND BLOOD.**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER, ANYTHING YOU RECOGNIZE FROM J.K. ROWLING'S BOOKS DO NOT BELONG TO ME.**

* * *

He didn't like the look in his uncle's eyes. He didn't like the face that his uncle and cousin look almost pleased, even gleeful in front of him. They were_ never_ happy to see him, what had happened?

The first time Harry realized the Dursley's strange attitude was when he had gotten off the train station with his friends and the Order. The Order had given the Dursley's a little dressing down about the way he was treated. At first, all he could feel was gratefulness towards the Order and maybe a little bit of smug pleasure. That is, until he saw how angry his uncle was.

Very angry.

Harry had only seen his uncle this angry once before, when he was only four years old; his uncle had been fired from what were seemingly_ false_ accusations of embezzling money from the company. Vernon had come home that night with his body tense with anger and his face rigid but completely blank of emotion. He didn't even speak or splutter like he usually did. He had just sat down on his usual chair and drank himself a full bottle of whiskey until he passed out.

When Vernon woke up, he was a living nightmare.

Vernon wasn't by any means gentle, but when he woke up from his alcohol induced sleep, he turned borderline violent. Turning over chairs and breaking vases while he shouted and yelled incoherently. It took them ages to calm him down.

Now, a week after the talk at the train station, Harry felt like he was waiting for a time bomb to explode in his face. Vernon had been giving him very evil looks while Dudley just looked at him in excitement. Aunt Petunia just kept giving him unreadable looks. By each passing hour, Harry grew on edge and would do his chores with a vigour that he usually didn't show when doing chores for the Dursley's.

Eventually, after two weeks without incident, Harry finally began to calm down and forced himself to think that he was just being paranoid. He laughed quietly to himself, saying that he was being stupid. Vernon wouldn't do anything with the Order looking in on him, right?

With that resolved, he continued doing the dishes with relative ease.

But he was far from relaxed.

* * *

Because his head was turned to the dishes, Harry didn't realize the pair of beady eyes looking looking at him from the kitchen door, a disturbing smile creeping on the person's face as he looked at the freak that didn't belong to this world.

He needed to go. he wasn't welcomed here. And Vernon knew exactly what to do.

* * *

Hair prickling on the back of his head, Harry slowly turned around expecting for someone to walk in, but there was nobody.

_Damn it Potter! Get a grip! You'll drive yourself mad at this rate._

He shook his head. But he still couldn't relax.

He was right not to.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER II**

A month had passed by after Harry had come back from the King's Cross Station. The days that had passed by were mostly peaceful, if it weren't for the fact that Harry _still_ felt on edge. No matter what he did to calm himself, there was no relief to the dread that he felt hanging in his chest. It was suffocating.

Vernon and Dudley were still looking at him strangely, sometimes gleeful, sometimes hateful and sometimes even evil looks were sent his way. Harry wondered if they had finally snapped and should be sent to the loony bin.

He had sent letters to Ron and Hermione about his concern on his relatives. They were supporting all the way;

_Don't worry Harry, I'm pretty sure that there is a reasonable explanation as to why their acting like that. If there's trouble Harry, please do write. It was wonderful hearing from you_, Hermione had written.

_Mad as a hatter, every single one of them, they are. Don't fret about it Harry, they wouldn't try anything with the Order watching, would they? Hang in there mate, we'll see you soon!_ Ron had written to him.

Harry couldn't help but feel grateful to his friends. It was only their letters and Hedwig that made his stay at Privet Drive a lot more bearable.

That night, right after dinner, Vernon decided that it was a good idea to break out a bottle of whiskey. Harry didn't know, nor did he understand why his uncle thought that this was a good idea, especially when he had work tomorrow. He had been busy cleaning up the dishes when his uncle yelled, "Boy! Come here!"

Stifling a groan, he dried his hands and walked towards the living room.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" he said tiredly.

"What is that?" he snapped at him, pointing at a stain on the carpet next to him.

Harry sighed again, "It looks like spilt whiskey,"

Vernon narrowed his drunken, beady eyes at him, "Well?" he growled.

"What?"

"_Why_ is there spilt whiskey on the carpet?"

"Oh, I don't know, because_ you_ were drinking whiskey?"

Faster than he had thought was possible, his uncle came barrelling at him and struck him in the stomach.

The air left his lungs as his uncle kept striking his abdomen repeatedly. By the time Vernon had stopped, Harry had collapsed to the ground, coughing and wheezing. What the _hell_ had just happened?

"What the hell was that for?" Harry gasped, still trying to get his breath back.

"For your cheek, boy! I will not tolerate your cheekiness in this house!" and with that said, Vernon kicked his nephew's already heaving body on the chest multiple times. To his surprise and disgusting pleasure, he heard the sickening crack of bone breaking under his feet.

Harry sucked in a ragged breath as a searing pain erupted over his body. He tried to scream but it seemed like there was no air left in his lungs. His vision grew cloudy and his breath was coming in short, laboured breaths. Why was Vernon doing this? What had he done?

"You stay there boy, and think about what you've done!" Vernon spat drunkenly while stumbling away from the living room, whiskey bottle in hand.

As soon as Harry was sure that Vernon was out of ear-shot, he let out a grunt of pain and tried to stand up, but his chest disagreed with him. He managed to get to his knees by leaning heavily on the couch next to him but by then he was already panting like he had run a mile.

_Come on Potter, you can do this._

With one large heave of breath, he stood up. And immediately regretted it. The world seemed to tip to the side and his vision was suddenly dotted with black spots. He fell to the ground again and fell into oblivion.

* * *

Far away in a magical school in which the location was unknown, a device started whirring and making high-pitched noises on a shelf.

But no one was there to hear it.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER III**

When Harry came too, his whole body was aching, especially his chest and stomach. It was dark outside; a quick glance at the grandfather clock told him that it was already three o'clock in the morning.

_Why am I on the floor?_

For a moment, he didn't remember what had happened to him, why he was so damned sore and weak but when he saw the stain of whiskey on the carpet, everything came back to him.

_Uncle Vernon! He did this?!_

In a haste, he tried to stand up but instead let out a gasp of pain as his chest flared with pain. He had to get upstairs, he had to tell someone – where was Hedwig? Taking a deep breath, or trying to take a deep breath, he used the coffee table in front of him a support and managed to stand on his knees. Painfully slow, he stood up, hissing all the way and started hobbling towards the living room entrance, holding on to the wall so he wouldn't fall.

His gut twisted when he saw the flight of stairs in front of him. They had always seemed so easy before. Now though, he didn't know whether he could make it through five steps. Clutching the stair railing, he slowly climbed the first step.

Hot, searing agony riddled his body. It took all his willpower not to scream, almost losing his footing all the while. Once he had gotten his breath back, he looked up upon the stairs, eyes misty with dread.

How? How can he possibly climb all those stairs when only one was able to knock the wind out of him? He was ready to give up then and there, but just the thought of his uncle catching him there in the dead of night made him shiver. Whatever was wrong with his uncle, he didn't want to be the receiving end of his wrath. _Again._

With renewed determination, he clutched the stair railing and heaved himself up. It was slow, a lot slower than what he would have liked, but it was progress. His breath was coming out in wheezing gasps and his vision had gone cloudy. Despite that, he didn't stop. Finally, after what had felt like eternity, he reached the first floor.

Harry felt like he could collapse on the spot, but knew that he could not let himself sit down, or else he would never get back up. With an arm wrapped protectively around his torso, he stumbled across the hall and carefully opened his door.

Relief washed over him as he saw Hedwig there on the opened window sill, nibbling on her wing feathers. She looked over to him as she heard her master open the door.

Contrary to belief, birds were one of the most intelligent animals on the planet, so naturally, Hedwig couldn't help but feel an overwhelming concern when she saw her master, who was usually light on his steps, stumble into the room with an arm around his middle, looking as if he could fall over any minute.

She flew over to him and gently landed on his shoulder, hooting and nuzzling his cheek in concern.

"Hedwig," Harry murmured, collapsing into his chair with a hiss of pain that made her all the more concerned, "I need you to send a letter to the Order,"

Giving a hoot of concern, she nipped his ear again and waited for the letter.

Harry managed to scrawl on to a piece of paper,

_Need help…hurt… Vernon did a number on me. Hurry._

_HJP_

With that, she clamped the piece of paper in her beak, seeing as her master was too exhausted to get some string. She nuzzled him once more and prepared to take flight. But before she could spread her wings, the bedroom door suddenly opened with a bang.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING BOY?" Vernon shouted.

Harry had suddenly gone unnaturally pale, "Hedwig, go!" he rasped.

Hedwig hated that she had to leave; she wanted to help her master and keep that awful man away from him. But she knew that this letter was also a way to help him. Quick as lightning, she spread her wings and took flight, letter still clamped tightly in her beak.

She prayed that her master was safe. All she could do was hope that the glinting, pointy thing she saw in the awful man's hand could not hurt her master.

As soon as Hedwig took flight, large meaty hands clamped around his throat, lifting him up and pressing him against the wall. Immediately, the hands started to choke him.

"Uncle Vernon," he rasped "Stop, please-"His vision was already getting foggy and his lungs were burning from the lack of air. Just when he thought he was going to fall unconscious again, the hands loosened but didn't let go of his neck.

Immediately, Harry began to inhale the air greedily, but started coughing harshly as his injured chest didn't agree with the movement. The only reason why he didn't fall to the ground on the spot was because of the hands that were still loosely wrapped around his neck.

He slowly blinked up at the person who was holding him up. Uncle Vernon's face had always had that overly pink flush to it, but now it had turned a sickly colour of purple, his beady eyes boring into his.

"Where did you send that bloody bird, you freak?" Vernon spat at him, hands tightening around his neck by just a fraction.

In a moment of stupid, stupid bravery, Harry boldly replied, "To the people who told you to stay away. They'll be here any moment."

For just a fraction of a second, Vernon's face lost all colour but was suddenly as red as a tomato again. All hopes of scaring his uncle away diminished as Harry looked into his uncle's eyes, not at all liking the manic gleam that had appeared.

Vernon released the hold he had on Harry's neck and took several steps back. At first, for one silly moment, Harry thought that it had actually work, but when his uncle took out one of Aunt Petunia's many kitchen knives from his pocket. Harry wondered if being bold in the first place was such a good idea.

Vernon took slow steady steps towards his nephew, knife clasped tightly in his hand. Harry backed up towards the wall, praying to whatever greater force was out there to not let him get anymore injured than he already was. But his luck was always against him.

With eyes gleaming maniacally, Vernon thrust the knife towards the injured boy.

Harry looked down at the knife that disappeared into his stomach, feeling oddly numb as he saw his blood start to leak out from the wound. His uncle's meaty hands were still wrapped around the knife handle, getting coated by the blood but seemed to not want to let go. He could feel his already laboured breath become shallow. Was it ever this hard to take a breath?

He looked up into his uncle's eyes, only seeing hate. His legs would no longer support him, and he fell to the ground, on his knees, his uncle's grip still unrelenting on the knife in his abdomen.

"It doesn't matter boy, you'll be dead long before they come," Vernon growled. He twisted the knife in his nephew's stomach, hoping to inflict as much pain as he could. He was rewarded with gagging sounds that came from him.

Harry's mind that was once numbed with shock, was finally registering that there was a knife in his stomach. The cold numbness that had previously held his body left him, only leaving hot, agonizing pain.

He gagged when he felt the knife being twisted in his stomach, his own hands clasping weakly on the knife handle, feebly trying to free the knife from his stomach but he was unsuccessful. His vision turned cloudy and he started to see black dots obscure his line of sight, his breathing almost non-existent.

Vernon had seen enough to satisfy his sick pleasure, and pulled the knife out from his nephew's stomach with a sickening 'squelching' sound.

Harry let out a ragged gasp as the knife was mercilessly pulled out from his stomach, all the while splattering his blood on the bedroom floor. Harry fell to the ground with a thud, hands automatically clasping themselves around the bleeding wound. He couldn't help but look back at his uncle, his eyes misty with tears.

He couldn't believe that Uncle Vernon was capable of doing this to him. He didn't expect his uncle to love him; he had accepted long ago that he was never to be loved by his uncle, but to actually be fatally wounded by this man hurt in more ways than one.

With one last look at his bleeding nephew, Vernon turned and left him there on the cold, hard floor, only wishing that he had done this sooner.

All Harry could do was keep awake, which was so agonisingly hard. His breath was coming out in short, ragged gasps. His lungs burned from the lack of air that he wasn't able to retain.

_Keep yourself awake, Potter!_

It was only by sheer willpower that he was able to keep his eyes open. He hoped whoever found his letter would get some help soon.

He could die here.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER IV

_**Thanks for the reviews! **_

_**And to Harry1675, it isn't weird at all. This story wouldn't exist if I didn't agree with you.**_

_**Also fair warning, although I can speak English pretty well, it isn't my native language. So if there are any spelling and grammar mistakes in the story, let me know.**_

_**Enjoy!**_

Arthur and Molly Weasley were suddenly awakened from an exhausted night's sleep by strange flapping and scratching noises. Leaping from their beds with their wands at the ready, they slowly crept towards the hallway, only to find four of their seven children poking their heads out from their bedrooms.

Bill, Charlie, Ron and Ginny had too been awakened by the strange noises that filled the silent Burrow.

"Ron, Ginny, go back to bed," hissed Molly.

"But Mum, what's that noise?" asked Ginny.

"We'll go mum," said Bill. Next to him, Charlie nodded. They had decided to stay at the Burrow since they would be home for their duties with the Order.

Molly nodded reluctantly, and watched her two elder sons creep their way downstairs, with Arthur and herself following behind them. What met their sight in the kitchen surprised them.

It was Hedwig, Harry's lovely snowy owl. But something seemed off with her. She was scratching the window pane with her talons and her wings flapping frantically. If it weren't for the piece of parchment clamped in between her beak, she would have been screeching.

Bill was the first to reach the window. Once Hedwig was inside, she dropped the letter from her beak and indeed did start screeching. With some hesitation, mostly because he was hoping the frantic owl wouldn't hurt him if he did, Charlie picked up the letter and started reading it.

Paling until his freckles were even more prominent, he shouted to his brother and parents,

"We need to get to Privet Drive now! Harry's hurt! Mum, contact the Order, and Dumbledore!"

Shaken up, the four Weasleys quickly changed from their night clothes and apparated towards their destination.

Because of their hurry, the elder Weasleys didn't realize that Ron and Ginny had been watching the whole time. The youngest Weasley boy quickly approached the forgotten but still frantic owl and started stroking her head.

She calmed down instantly, recognizing her master's best friend's touch instantly. She nipped his fingers in thanks and then nudged the letter next to her with her talons. Ron read it and instantly paled. Ginny, seeing the dread in her brother's face, snatched the letter from his rigid hands and read.

_Need help…hurt…Vernon did a number on me. Hurry._

_HJP_

"Oh no," she gasped. The two siblings shared similar looks of dismay, the both of them praying to whoever was out there that their friend was safe.

He didn't know how much time has passed. The wound in his stomach was seeping blood and keeping his hand on it didn't seem to be helping. His breathing was irregular, shallow and getting more painful by the minute. His vision had turned foggy and dark for what had felt like ages ago. The floor around him felt wet and warm. He had realized a moment ago that it was probably his own blood pooling around him.

Harry didn't know why he didn't pass out yet. With this much blood pooling around him, he shouldn't even be aware of _anything._ Was his magic helping him? He shivered as another wave of pain surged through him, stopping any kindling of thought for a moment. He moaned in dismay, hands clenching around the wound in his stomach but only managing to cause him more pain.

Burning tears of pain started to leak from his eyes. _What_ had he done to them? What was so bad about him that his remaining relatives saw that it was better to kill him instead of having to live with him in the same house?

And so he lay there on the floor, in his own pool of blood, his body and spirit damaged.

Albus Dumbledore had just arrived in his office after a _very_ long meeting with the new Minister for Magic, his old, tired body aching all over. He had just sat down on his chair when he realized something. A whirring sound that he was all too familiar with caught his attention and it didn't sit well with him.

It was the monitoring device he had set up for Privet Drive, and the whirring could only mean one thing. He had just managed to stand up from his chair when his fireplace lit up with green fire and a face appeared.

It was Remus Lupin.

"Albus," Rumus exclaimed, "Something's happened! We need back up on Privet Drive now! It's Harry,"

All tiredness forgotten, he set out to work. He would not let himself fail again.

If anyone had been awake at the time, they would have gossiped about the red-headed family of four in the strange clothes that had just appeared in their neighborhood. Said family was looking around Privet Drive warily, their wands drawn like they were expecting an attack.

They quickly located Number 4 and used an unlocking spell to enter the house. Upon inspection, the house looked fairly normal and innocent, but the Weasleys couldn't help but feel a cold dread creep into their bones as they entered.

Bill and Arthur agreed to check upstairs while Molly and Charlie went back outside to look out for the back-up that they had contacted earlier.

With Bill in the lead, they crept slowly up the stairs, relieved that it wasn't as creaky as the stairs back at the Burrow. Once they reached the first floor, they were immediately assaulted with snoring sounds that rivaled Ron's when he was asleep.

"Pity the lady that has to sleep with those blokes," Bill whispered.

Arthur started to smile, only to stop short when he saw the first door on his left. It seemed normal enough, except for the number of locks on the outside of the door. Now, he didn't know a lot of things about the Muggle world, but he was sure that locks on a door were supposed to be on the inside of the room. These locks seemed to be made to-

"My God," Arthur whispered.

"They locked him in?" Bill asked, face turning an angry red.

Pulling out his wand, Arthur quickly unlocked the door and entered. What met his sight would be one of his nightmares for a very long time.

Harry Potter, laying in his own pool of blood and barely breathing.

"My God, Harry!" he yelled and dropped on to his knees next to the wounded boy. He stared in horror as he saw the blood seeping through Harry's hands.

"Mr Ws-ly," a haggard voice whispered.

Arthur looked into the pained eyes of Harry Potter, astonished that the boy was still even awake.

"Harry! You just hold on now, we'll get you out of here," Arthur tried to reassure him, but his voice came out shaky.

"Dad, we need to stop the bleeding, he's lost so much already," Bill said quietly. He picked up a stray shirt from the floor and bundled it securely. He knelt next to Harry and slowly removed the blood coated hand from his stomach. Harry hissed as the air hit the open wound.

"I'm sorry Harry, I need to press on it to stop the bleeding."

Harry looked like it was the last thing he wanted Bill to do, but nodded, knowing it was necessary. His back arched as Bill pressed on his stomach tightly, a short scream erupting from his breathless lungs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Harry, just hold on," Bill muttered, his eyes misty. Harry was a decent bloke; he didn't deserve this. Arthur was sitting in front of him, one hand on Harry's shoulder and the other holding on to the boy's hand.

"Keep talking Harry, don't go to sleep,"

"About…what?" he rasped.

"Anything, just until help gets here,"

"So Hed…wig found…you?"

"She did Harry. Smart bird you've got there," supplied Arthur.

"Clever girl…" Harry agreed dazedly. His eyes were fluttering to a close. Now that help had come, he felt like he could finally let his weary body rest.

"No, no, no, Harry, stay with me!" Bill exclaimed.

The last thing Harry remembered seeing were blurs of people with red hair and others clothed in green. Then he knew no more.

* * *

_**I'm so sorry for the late update, but my sister was picked for an exchange program and she was sent to Singapore with some of her friends. Now, if you've read my Bio, you'd know that she is the most important thing in my life right now. I was a little preoccupied, but i'm back! **_

_**Thanks again for the reviews and keep them coming. I love the feedback.**_

_**Also, if there are any errors that need to be corrected, let me know~**_

_**~Dawn~**_


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